I'd Rather Be In Philadelphia
by MoreThanSimplyWords
Summary: He never came to Yale. He never came to her grandparent's house. The incident at Truncheon never happened. The only things she has left of him are his last words and a return address to Philadelphia.


**A/N: I know I need to get the next chapter of _Fragments_ up, but this came to me, and I had to carry it out. For backstory: Logan and Rory broke up not long after they started dating, and Rory never dropped out of Yale. Her grandpa's heart attack happened a year earlier. And the last time Rory saw Jess was at the Firelight festival. Thanks for reading!**

She only came in to get a new copy of _Middlemarch, _but bookstores always keep her longer than she intended. She especially loves the ones like she's in right now - little holes in the wall, permeated with the unmistakable smell of book, with only a few people in them. She could live in here, she thinks as she starts down another aisle.

She stops short. _The Subsect_, by Jess Mariano. She's too stunned to move for minutes. Eventually, the hideous, embarrassing need to cry comes over her, and she knows there's no time to go home or even make it to the bathroom. The bookstore's not crowded at all, so she grabs the book and goes to the back of the store. There, she sinks down, hugging the book to her as tears begin coursing down her cheeks. She's well aware of how she would look if someone were to find her, but in that instant she doesn't even care. She just sits there, holding onto the only thing tangible thing that connects them.

After a while, the thought occurs to her that it might not even be his book. Surely there has to be more than one Jess Mariano in the world, even if there's only ever been one to her…

She flips through a few pages, not daring to read more than a few words at a time. But it's enough. Enough to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's him. There's no mistaking the words that skitter across the pages - witty and sarcastic, yet beautiful in their own way. She can picture him writing them down, hear his voice saying them. It sends another rack of sobs coursing silently, but just as painfully, throughout her body.

She doesn't know how long she sits there, tracing her finger across the letters of him name, but eventually she collects herself, slowly places the book back on the shelf, and walks back to her dorm, her heart thudding his name dully inside of her chest.

* * *

"_I love you."_

It's still dark when she wakes. His face fades away a second after she opens her eyes, but she can still hear his words echoing in her head.

"_I love you."_

She thinks back on the last few years she's spent not letting herself talk about him, not letting herself even think of him.

"_I love you."_

She squeezes her eyes shut against the words, the last ones he spoke to her. They always seem to show up in her dreams, though lately those dreams had been few and far between. Most girls, she thinks, would have treasured those three words. They would have been something to hang on to, something to have, even though he was gone. Instead, the only time she allows herself to think of them are the cool, silent, nights like these.

"_I love you."_

She whispers the words out loud, resounding in the empty room. She loves him, but he'll never know it. For all she knows, he's with someone else and has completely forgotten about her. So why is it so hard for her to let go of him?

"_I'm moving on. I'm not going to pine. I hope you didn't think I was going to pine." _

She wonders if Jess knew those words had been more to convince herself than him. He probably did, she muses. He could always see right through her. To this day, she can still recall the suffocating pain of that moment - the thumping of her heart, the heaviness in her chest, and the tears that had burned in the back of her eyes. But she had known she had to move on, no matter how hard it would be. She just didn't expect it to be quite this hard.

Finally, she remembers the book. And for the first time in years, she allows herself to miss him.

* * *

She gets the package the next day. Enclosed is the book she spent a good portion of the previous day crying over. She picks it up and a letter falls out. She watches it float slowly to the floor and lay there for several minutes before she lowers herself to the ground and picks it up.

_Rory,_

_I didn't think you would believe it if I didn't confirm it myself. Just wanted to let you know that I couldn't have done it without you. _

_Jess _

She glances at the return address. Philadelphia. So he's not in California anymore. He's not across the country, separated by both the distance and the emotional barriers. He seems so close - in distance at least. But maybe this letter is a step towards breaking everything else down. She slips the letter into the book, hoping that just maybe, this will be what they needed.

She wants to tell him so much - that she loves his book, that she's proud of him, but all she's written on the paper is his name. It reminds her of the summer after their first kiss. She never did send him a letter then. She's determined to this time. But so much has changed, and she doesn't know where to begin. It's been two weeks since she's gotten the package, and she knows he'll think she doesn't care if she doesn't write soon. But for the life of her, she can't get anything on the pages.

* * *

It's the next week that her grandpa has a heart attack. She had been sitting in class when he suddenly dropped. It was the worst moment of her life. But she sits at his bedside now, listening to her mom and grandma argue, and her grandpa, as usual, playing the part as peacemaker.

"Are you okay, dad? I mean, how are you feeling, considering everything? You look okay." Lorelai finally says.

"Well, all in all, I think I'd rather be in Philadelphia." Her grandpa smiles lightly.

Her breath catches, but she recovers quickly, forcing a small laugh. "Ronald Regan."

"Quoting W.C. Fields."

"Oh, I didn't know that." She should have known, but she can't think.

"It would be great now. You know, winter is a great time to see the Liberty Bell and the cream cheese. That's all I got on Philadelphia." Her mom says.

For years, she's listened to her mom talk about random trains of thoughts. But she's never experienced the same process herself to such an extent as she does right now. Philadelphia. The book. Bridge. Talks about Hemingway, Bronte, Dickens, and everything in between. Dark eyes. A smirk. Jess. _"I love you." _Words she'll never get out of her head. A letter she still needs to send. _"I'd rather be in Philadelphia."_ It's true for her too, and she finally knows it.

For a moment, a thought enters her head. Maybe, after everything with her grandpa gets sorted out, she should just go to Philadelphia. Find Jess and tell him she still loves him, risking the chance that he's moved on. It has, after all, been two years.

She shakes her head slightly. She can't do that, not yet, even if the one thing she's wanted most in the world for the past month is to have him back by her side. But everything has to start somewhere. So an hour later, she goes back to her dorm and picks up her pen.

"_Dear Jess…"_

* * *

_A/N: Thoughts, anyone?  
_


End file.
